Truly my state of affairs, internally, now. One class in the summer. The Room, tiring of it, its characters. I feel too confined there now. The purpose, its purpose, served. Time to move on, but I can’t. Reliant on that cash. Tomorrow, barrel tasting. Sunday too. My Equilibrium this evening, thus far, unequal, uneven. Will write my way through it.
Thinking, again, of a wine shop. Wine and Literature, saving my life. Love the adventurous, and strong, blends. Wine, to me, I see, is more than a series of sips. It’s blissful tranquility, harmony. The classroom, ambivalent, exhausting. Don’t place blame on the young minds, the fault is mine. Wine and Lit, the only brick that in this wall I’ll let fit. Haven’t played basketball in a while, or ran. Where’s my new routine? My New Year’s reso that I kept chanting to Self? Maybe I should go running now. Right now. Too eased here in the castle. Tuesday, I’ll start then.
Been writing the most unconventional, but charged, poetry/spoken word I’ve ever scribbled. Before I boast my victories on those pages, I have to pause, prepare Self for this weekend. Want to be on the other side of the counter, once. Would love to be such tomorrow. Yes, I think I’m done with the Room. What else can it do for me? If I need new characters, for Room Notes, I’ll just make them up. I’ve seen enough to construct, concoct, any scenario needed for a manuscript. Not going to think about BOOK TWO yet. No way.
Characters on mind: firefighter, pilot, winemaker, Philosophy Professor, barista at coffee shop (not Starbucks). Thinking of giving my log/blog more of a character focus, maintain the note-taking vignettes. One character from the Room recently, a wrinkly white lady in a tacky turquoise poncho, asking questions about everything. Everything. Even why other wineries produce the varietals they do, why wineries are named what they are. Her questions about the wine club, even the basic tasting flights, I thought were going to stretch to closing. She bought two bottles, a Sauv Blanc and a Sonoma County Cab. Exhausting. See? I don’t need moments like that, I can make them up. “Liars prosper.”
Have all these rimes on a yellow sheet to my left. Need to formally assemble them. Maybe BOOK2 will be a journal, chaotically beautiful tapestry. Can’t think about it, not yet. Spring begins tomorrow. Impact on me? Don’t know. Travel on the mind now, the food that accompanies...
6:44p. Now I feel like I’m just typing to type, hoping 1k will find my way. Going to pour some of that Cuvee in a tic. So conditional am I, in the moment. One day, I’m consumed by A, the next by Q. Maybe that’s my genre, my unique angle.
Char 1: 22 year old girl, Mikaela. Psych major. Overwhelmed this semester. Single. Her last boyfriend was short-lived, as she found out he was an immature drone, lacking both personality and general social compatibility. She can’t wait to be out of school. Can’t wait to be done with the ridiculous homework load, and have the 9-5.
Char 2: 45 year-old winemaker. Wants to start his own. Boutique, 1000 cases/year, may 2 or 3k. He can’t stand the corporate culture of his winery. He’s fine with the pay cut he would see. “Price of freedom,” he thought. His employer wanted rushed bottles, he believed that quality bottles deserved time, attention, more than just a deadline.
Char 3: Actor, 33, who hasn’t had a gig in some time. Sees himself acting, but he’s not sure in what precise capacity. He thinks movies, but he’s too afraid to audition, terrified they’ll laugh at him. Had a semi-hit series about five years ago. He may have to get a “real” job. He’s terrified as his residuals diminish as the year forwards.
Opening the Cuvee in a little. My wine shop would be Bordeaux focused, but I’d offer other characters. Rhones, Italians, Spanish, Hungarians, who knows what else. It’d be an adventure owning a shop. How do I get started? Research. Need a bottle of Carignan to write about. But, need some tenders for that. Payday from winery, one week from this day. Need to push the poetry. Hate relying on these devils for dough. Time for wine.
7:57p. How did it get so late? Time, a bully. As a character, I think time is one that even I as the writer can’t like in any respect. It has no agreeable attributes. A dark chewy cobbler character in this Cuvee. Almost tastes better tonight than it did the last.
Char 4: Independent chef, Aaron. Runs catering service and works the line at an upscale bistro in St. Helena. 29, freaking out about turning 30. One day wants to be a personal chef, with a client list that would determine his future with mystical merit.
8:15p. How is it after 8? Hate time, seriously. This wine is speaking to me, in ballads, massaging melodies. Freeing me from chains, flattening my pains. When will I have time to edit BOOK ONE? Need to take another taste to even the Equilibrium...
A little better. Was just reading about a Merlot that won, I think, nine contests in the same month. What a sense of ascendency, nine, with Merlot. Winemakers are like divinely dictated alchemists. One target before my End, to make my own wine. A Zin, maybe with 8% Carignan. What that would do, I don’t have the slightest. I just want to bottle uniqueness, nothing template, or of mimicry, predictability. Maybe Char 2 and I should partner up, see where it goes.
8:25p. Starting to get tired. Woke up this AM at 4:40-something, and couldn’t fall back into sleep. Tried taking a nap this afternoon, unsuccessful. Barrel weekend, maybe it won’t be a negative in any form. Won’t have time to write, capture the characters. So my memory trap must be at the readiest of readies. Have to be like Char 3, get into character, play the role believably.
(Friday March 19, 2010)
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